


Chicago Gets My Soul

by stumpsucc



Series: Ghost!Patrick [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumpsucc/pseuds/stumpsucc
Summary: "What's your name?" Brendon asked after regaining his composure. The planchette slowly moved across the letters, spelling out 'Patrick Stump'.





	Chicago Gets My Soul

Growing tired of opening up boxes, building furniture, plugging in appliances, and all the other draining aspects of moving, Brendon really needed a break. The TV wasn't even in the apartment yet, and God knows which one of the identical cardboard boxes had Brendon's CDs and the player. 

Going back to one of the boxes he opened earlier, Brendon picked up his ouija board, some candles, and a matchbox. "Might as well see if I'm *really* living alone." Brendon said to himself as he dropped the items on the table that he probably didn't put together right. 

After turning off all the lights, Brendon sat back down and set up the board, lighting the candles.  
"Is anyone there?" Brendon asked, almost knocking a candle onto the floor when the planchette started moving towards 'yes'.

"What's your name?" Brendon asked after regaining his composure. The planchette slowly moved across the letters, spelling out 'Patrick Stump'. 

"How did you die?" Brendon asked, without thinking. Instantly, the planchette started moving rapidly back and forth over 'no'.

"Oh. Sorry." Brendon said. The planchette moved over to goodbye and, after a moment, the candles were suddenly blown out. 

Brendon shrugged and opened a few more boxes before going to bed. 

~~~~

The next morning, Brendon knew that the ghost- Patrick- wasn't going to be killing him any time soon, as he woke up to see that all the boxes had been opened in the night. Nothing had been put away, but it definitely saved him some trouble. 

There was a sentence in terrible handwriting on the notepad Brendon had left on the table. 'Buy more mirrors'. It had to be from Patrick. Brendon pushed it aside, not bothering to try and understand it. 

Without even bothering with boxes- he was *not* in the mood, Brendon got dressed to go outside and try to find a job, and hopefully one within walking distance. 

But after only a few hours of dealing with the bitter, unforgiving Midwestern weather, he ultimately gave up and decided to just take a bus back to his apartment, and try to find something online. With a sigh, he sat next to the other person on the only bench at the bus station: a short guy with brown hair and a seemingly terrible fashion sense. He was looking at his phone, and seemed to just be avoiding his surroundings. Brendon could relate. 

“New in town?” The other person asked. Brendon almost jumped.

“Yeah. How did you know?” 

“You just have that look. Like you didn't expect this city to be the way it is. The look someone would get if they slipped on ice during a morning jog in July.” 

Brendon raised an eyebrow. This guy was...interesting, to say the least. “You have a unique way of describing things.”

“So I’ve heard. My name is Pete.”

“Brendon.”

At that moment, the bus arrived. Pete and Brendon sat next to each other until it was Brendon’s stop. He walked up the stairs to his apartment with a new number in his phone and butterflies in his stomach.

~~~~

It was only a few hours later that Brendon invited Pete over, with absolutely no intent of asking him to help with boxes. Nope, none at all.

When Pete arrived, he was all smiles. Brendon welcomed him with an awkward handshake and the worst thing of all: a voice crack. Pete didn't seem put off, though. 

After just a few minutes, a cabinet in the bathroom started slamming over and over again. Knowing it had to be Patrick, Brendon felt his blood go cold. This was not the time for a ghost to do this.

“Dude, what is that? Didn't you say you live alone?” Pete asked, confused. Brendon nodded.

“I do. I’ll check it out.” Brendon began walking in the direction of the noise, Pete following closely behind. 

“Your mirror doesn’t work.” Pete commented, noticing that neither his nor Brendon’s reflection showed. 

“Odd. It has been. Like, I know it’s October, but this is a bit far, ghost. Or demon. Whatever.” Brendon was just trying to cover his confusion and mild fear of what might be happening by talking too much when the mirror suddenly fogged up.

When the mysterious steam cleared, someone (not Pete or Brendon) was looking back from the mirror, eyes wide. His young-looking face was scarred. A crushed trucker hat rested on his head. Pete choked on air. 

“Patrick?” Pete asked, once he calmed down a bit. Patrick nodded. Brendon was more than confused. 

“How do you know each other?” Brendon asked. 

“We were roommates.” Pete and Patrick said in unison, both immediately smiling. 

“Okay, that was just weird.” Pete gave Brendon a strange look.

“The talking in unison? Oh, so having a ghost in your apartment doesn't freak you out, but two people being able to talk at the same time and crap is what crypto-phases you?”

Patrick looked absolutely disgusted with the pun, before the mirror fogged up again. A toilet paper roll flew off the rack and hit Pete in the face, making him jump. Patrick quickly re-appeared in the mirror. 

"Never say that again." 

Pete laughed. Brendon smiled too. He only just realized how cute Pete was and it made his heart do flips. 

~~~~

"Dude, holy shit, it's almost midnight. I've gotta get home." Pete said after looking at his phone. Brendon cursed under his breath. 

"Yeah man, bye. See you soon?"

"Obviously. Bye, Patrick."

"Bye, Pete." 

It was a bit emotional, seeing Pete and Patrick say goodbye to each other. Brendon felt happy, though. Warm inside. He went to bed feeling like this move really was a great idea.

**Author's Note:**

> I will 100% add to this fic at some point (like a sequel...prequel..we'll see) but it's 10pm and I'm exhausted so


End file.
